I knew the outside world
from stories: there are forests
and foreigners, mean people too
But always someone comes
to help, and I learned

you can be a hero
It's about the outcome
(the blessed life only starts
  with the happy end)

That's how I grew up
and the world grew along with me
so that my outside world got further
and further away, and I learned

daily life is boring and
it is unfeasible to be a hero
But my little son wants
me to tell something exciting

So I get brews
from the wizards of stories
I stir and boil them up
I let him feast

eager
to be soon grown-up enough
to go into the wide world himself
travelling to the happy end

and I keep silent how far it is
and that it is shifting away
every day, to the future
in which we won't be